Bourbon Lullaby
by L. Greene
Summary: AU! Balthazar is an orderly at Suffolk County Hospital, where he meets a dying man with a sweet smile. T for language.


**I am so sorry in advance. I sobbed like a little bitch like twenty times while writing this.**

* * *

Balthazar had always liked working at Suffolk County Hospital. Sure, orderlies weren't paid much, but he didn't have to deal with the same crap as nurses and doctors, he got to wear V-neck scrubs, and he met a lot of interesting people. Maybe it wasn't initially what he had in mind when he moved to the US, but it worked for him and he was able to support himself. And maybe he'd go back to school and get some degree or another in a year or two, but right now, he had to save as much cash as possible.

That was where he met Lu, too.

Balthazar had been finishing up his rounds when he happened to glance into one of the rooms that, before now, had been unoccupied. Now it _was_ occupied, and by a strikingly handsome man at that. He had thick, strawberry-blond hair falling into eyes that Balthazar could tell, even from this distance, were blue, and he was wide-awake, reading—Balthazar almost snorted with laughter—_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. He quickly ducked away from the doorway, but not before the other man noticed him. Their eyes locked for a split second, and then Balthazar darted away, silently promising himself that he'd swing by once he was off for the day.

When he passed by two hours later, the strawberry blond was still awake. In the interim, he'd been hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV drip, and he looked tired. Still, when he noticed Balthazar lurking in the doorway (not one of his prouder moments), the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. "Hey, creeper," he said. "What's up?"

Balthazar flashed him an embarrassed grin and slunk into the room. "Sorry. No one's been in this room in awhile, that's all."

The other man's smile widened. "With that accent, I can forgive you."

He choked on a laugh and drew a little closer. "Thanks, I think. I'm Balthazar."

"Lucifer. Everyone calls me 'Lu,' though."

Grinning in spite of himself at the man's name, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to have a brother named Michael would you?"

"I bet you think you're being really funny. It's sad, but yeah, I have a brother named Michael. And one named Gabriel, too."

"You're joking."

"Completely serious. My dad's name is Chuck, for what it's worth," he added.

Balthazar's next question would have been _What are you in for?_ but he knew he wasn't allowed to ask for privacy reasons. If Lu volunteered the information, fine, but he couldn't ask. "Enjoying your stay?" he joked instead.

"I've been to worse hotels than this. Plus I get a bunch of free drugs."

"I believe you have to pay for those at the end."

"I do? Damn. I'm checking out, then."

Balthazar laughed and Lu gestured to the chair by the bed. "You can sit down if you want. No need to stand around like a creeper."

He laughed again and took the seat. "Thanks. I'll try to tone down the creeperness."

"Nah, it's fine. I just hadn't expected anyone to stop by, that's all."

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why not?"

Lu shrugged. "No real reason. I saw maybe four people pass by the door today and... well, no one knows I'm here."

"You not going to be here long?"

The strawberry blond smiled. "Something like that. I didn't tell my family. I mean, I will eventually, but not right now."

"Family disagreement?"

"Basically. I've always been like the black sheep of the family. They don't like me much."

"What about friends?"

"I don't have many. I don't think they'd visit me in the hospital, either."

"Well..." Balthazar glanced at the IV and the heart monitor. Lu probably would be out of the hospital tomorrow. He really didn't look like he belonged here in the first place. "You said you aren't going to be here long, so I guess it won't matter."

Lu gave him an intense stare for a moment. "You're not allowed to ask, are you?"

"Ask what?"

"Why I'm here."

Balthazar nodded. "Yeah. Not allowed. Sorry."

"But you want to know," he guessed.

"Was it that obvious?"

"You've been dancing around the question for like five minutes now," Lu joked.

"The question occurred to me. I mean, it doesn't look bad. You have one IV and an EKG, so you're obviously not dying or something."

Lu nodded slowly, seeming to ponder Balthazar's words. "It's morphine."

"Morphine?"

He tapped the tube running to his arm. "In there. Morphine."

"Oh." Balthazar didn't know what to make of this information, but Lu went on almost immediately.

"You're wrong, though. I _am_ dying. Cancer."

"You're joking."

Lu shook his head. "Nope. Completely serious."

"Oh." It felt like the world had shifted, although he had no idea why. "You still have all your hair, though."

"I said no to the chemo. They told me it would give me _maybe_ an extra year, but... at what cost, you know? That shit makes you sick, your hair falls out, you're stuck in the hospital half the time, and in the end, you still die young." He shook his head. "Hell, I got here two months ago thinking I had pneumonia, and nope, stage 3B lung cancer."

Balthazar got the feeling that he hadn't told this to many people. "But your family, your friends—they know, right? About the cancer?"

Lu stared down at his hands, folded in his lap. "No. I didn't tell them."

"But... you're _dying_. How did you not tell them?"

"I tried a few times. There's just no easy way to say, 'By the way, I'm gonna be dead in six months.'" He sighed. "Besides, I've never been too close to my family. My best friend isn't much of that anymore—he's on the other side of the country half the time and usually too busy to even return a damn phone call the other half of the time. My..." His voice caught. "My ex, we broke up right after I found out."

"That's a bitch move."

Lu shook his head. "No. It was my move."

"You told her, then?"

"No, I just... Sam was... I didn't want him to mourn me. I wanted to give him a head start on getting on with his life. It wasn't fair to ask him to stick around for something like that. It's a fucking mess."

"Is that why you didn't tell your family, either?"

"A little bit," Lu said softly. "I guess I wish I had told Gabe. He was the one person in my family I was even sort of close with. But it doesn't matter now."

"You could still tell him."

"I could, but what good would it do? It's not gonna change anything. Like it or not, I'm going to be dead soon. But it's alright. I accepted it a long time ago. I quit my job and started crossing things off my bucket list. Not as much as I wanted, but enough." He shrugged. "I had a lot of fun, actually. Spent some time with Gabe, too, even if I didn't tell him what was going on."

"Well, at least you got to see him."

"Yeah," Lu said, looking contemplative. "I guess so."

* * *

"Gabriel stopped by," Lu said the next day.

"Short little fucker?" Balthazar joked. He remembered passing by the room and seeing someone in here with him.

Lu grinned. "Yeah, that's him."

"What did you tell him?"

"That they think I have the flu. I'm feeling better and I'll be home in a day or two."

"So you lied."

"He's my little brother," Lu whispered. "I have no idea how I'm supposed to tell him I'm dying. I'll be out of here in a few days either way, so what difference does it make?"

"How is he going to feel when he finds out you were dying and never told him?"

"Better that than him finding out now and trying to convince me to start chemo or something. I've made my peace with dying. I'm twenty-seven, but I'm ready to go. I accepted it. The last thing I need is my family breathing down my neck so I can wring another six miserable months out. I want to die happy, feeling like I lived, not just like I was trying to prolong the inevitable. Hell, I made this choice. It's what _I_ want, and like it or not, my family's just gonna have to deal with it."

Balthazar nodded slowly. "I guess I can see your point. Avoid the family conflict and all."

"They're gonna find out eventually, anyway. Just... after the fact, that's all."

"Do you think he'll tell your brother—Michael, right?—or your dad about it?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. But Michael lives in New York and my dad lives in DC. I don't foresee either of them swinging by. Maybe a phone call, but they won't visit. And if they do, it'll be too late anyway."

* * *

Balthazar stopped by whenever he got a free minute. He started eating his lunch in Lu's room, since he seemed to appreciate having company. Balthazar didn't know how someone could _not_ want to see their family before they died, but Lu clearly didn't mind having him there.

He wondered about Lu's family, though. They obviously weren't that close, but Lu didn't hate them: there was no bitterness in his tone. It almost sounded like they were distant acquaintances, like they saw each other a few times a year and harbored no animosity toward each other, yet they also had no desire to get to know each other any better.

That was strange to him—certainly he wasn't close with his own family, but he knew that if he was dying, he'd want his parents and his sister at his bedside. He dismissed it, though. Lu, he supposed, was different.

He pretended he didn't notice the way, with every passing day, Lu seemed more pale and sickly. Instead, he focused on Lu's almost-incessant chatter. He was almost always talking about his favorite movies or books he'd wanted to read or TV shows he'd wanted to watch to completion, but there was no trace of sadness in his tone, just a vague disappointment. Balthazar, for his part, was surprised to realize that he didn't mind listening to Lu's talking. In fact, he wanted to know more about him, wanted to hear that chatter for a good long time

But he kept remembering, at the back of his head, that Lu was on his way out.

* * *

On the sixth day Balthazar went to see him, it took a few moments for the strawberry blond to open his eyes. When he saw who it was, he smiled. "Hey, there, creeper."

It couldn't be denied anymore, no matter how much he wanted to. "You look exhausted."

The smile slipped. "I _feel_ exhausted. They upped the morphine so I'm not hurtin' at least, but... man, I feel like I spent twelve hours straight at the club." There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. It seemed like he'd aged ten years overnight, and it finally hit home: Lu was really dying.

"I'm sure that's better than six days at the hospital."

"They... they think I have four or five more days."

"Oh."

"Yeah. They're wrong, though. I think I got a day left at the most. They don't know how this feels."

Balthazar's chest tightened. "I see. So. Last night on Earth, then." He smiled brightly and hoped it didn't look too fake. "Any big plans?"

"Actually, I've been cravin' some Taco Bell. This hospital food is gettin' old, quick. The nurses keep tryin' to get me to eat, but... man, nothin' tastes good. All I want is a fuckin' Doritos Loco taco. Who the fuck cares what I eat? A Doritos Loco taco an' some Jim Beam Devil's Cut." He grinned, although it was obviously forced. "That's what I want right now."

There was no way Balthazar could have said no. "Give me a half an hour. I'll be back. Don't die on me just yet," he added, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as he left.

"No promises," Lu called back. "If I hear that Heavenly Chorus, I may just join them!"

He'd never driven so fast in his life. He stopped by the liquor store first and picked up a bottle of the bourbon for Lu, tucking into his backpack as soon as he was safely back in the car. He knew bringing booze into the hospital would be frowned on, but he didn't care. Lu was right—it certainly wasn't going to hurt anything to have it.

When he got to the closest Taco Bell, he realized he didn't know what flavor of Doritos Loco taco Lu had wanted, so he ordered two of each and a largo Baja Blast Mountain Dew, and a thing of nachos for himself. Once he had the food in hand, he sped back to the hospital and made it back to Lu's room in record time.

It had only been twenty minutes, but when he saw how still Lu looked with his eyes closed, lying back, he was certain, for a brief moment, that he was too late. Then he heard the rhythmic beeping of the EKG machine and realized he was just resting. "Lu?"

He opened one eye, and then the other. "I see Taco Bell. I don't see Jim Beam," he said with a small, teasing smile.

"I had to smuggle it in," Balthazar said as Lu sat up to paw through the plastic bag of tacos and nachos. The orderly pulled the bottle out of his backpack and screwed off the top, offering it to the strawberry blond. "They don't take too kindly to liquor here, but... what the Hell, right?"

He laughed. "Awesome."

"Never could resist a dying boy with a pretty smile," Balthazar added, and then immediately regretted it.

Lu didn't even flinch, though. "You think my smile's pretty?"

Balthazar gave him a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I do."

The strawberry blond flashed him that smile. "You gonna get in trouble for the booze?"

"Maybe."

"Well. I won't tell if you won't." With that, Lu took a long swig of bourbon, let out a contented sigh, and handed the bottle back to Balthazar. He took a smaller sip, having never tried this particular style of bourbon before, and found he wasn't overwhelmed by the burn like he expected. He set the bottle on the little table next to Lu's bed, right next to _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_, within easy reach of both of them, as Lu lifted one of the Cool Ranch Doritos Locos to his mouth.

"Fuckin' amazin'." He swallowed his bite and grinned, and for the first time since they met, it didn't look completely forced. "Thanks, Balthazar."

They slowly worked through the food and quarter of the bottle of Devil's Cut, cracking jokes and trying not to think about what would happen soon before Lu lay back again, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. "'m sorry," he murmured, gesturing to the two and a half tacos left in the bag. "Normally, I can easily polish off all of those, but..." He shook his head. "I'm fuckin' tired."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's okay," Balthazar said. "Don't worry about it. Are you hurting?"

Lu shook his head slowly. "Nah. Just tired. You gotta work in the mornin'?"

"No," he lied. He knew what Lu was really asking. He wanted to know if Balthazar was going to leave. "I don't work until Sunday."

"Cool."

"Want me to stay?"

He let out another tired sigh. "Yeah, I do, actually. I mean, if you wanna stay."

"I'll stay," Balthazar said quietly, reaching for Lu's hand.

"Thanks." He closed his eyes, and for a few minutes, neither of them said a word.

Then Balthazar heard him sniffle and he looked up. There were tear tracks running down Lu's cheeks and suddenly, the strawberry blond was murmuring, "Damn it. Fuck it all."

"What? What happened?"

"Fuckin' _you_ happened, that's what. I... Fuck, I made my peace with dyin' months ago. I accepted it. I was _okay_ with it. Yeah, twenty-seven years isn't a long time, but at least I was happy, y'know? Then I fuckin' meet you an' you're fuckin' sweet an' funny an' _hot_ an'..." Lu let out a broken-sounding sob. "I don't wanna die anymore. Not now. I... I wanna be here with you, which is fucked-up since you're probably married or somethin', I don't know anythin' about you, but God _damn_ what I wouldn't give to have more time now. Fuck, Gabe told me that Sam started seein' someone else, some chick named Jess, and when he told me, I honestly felt fuckin' _nothin_' except, like, good for him. But _you_... How come you're the one who makes me wish I had taken that extra shitty year?"

Balthazar couldn't breathe for a few seconds, but he managed to shake his head. "It's not fucked-up, Lu. It's not." How could he find the words to say that he didn't want Lu to die, either? It wasn't the same as seeing a patient and not wanting them to die in an abstract way—he knew he'd feel it as a personal loss once Lu slipped away. In less than a week, they'd forged this bond, and maybe it was only because they had a few days, but he desperately wished Lu could have had the full life he deserved. He tightened his grip on Lu's hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing the back of his hand. "For what it's worth, I don't want you to die any more than you do. And I'm not married. Not even dating anyone." He swallowed hard and wondered how—even _if—_he could say those three little words that should have taken him months. Would it make this worse? Would Lu even believe him? "I... I'm so sorry."

And Lu just looked so pale, the only signs of color the red around his eyes and the dimming blue of his irises. He still clung to Balthazar's hand like it was the last thing keeping him on Earth, like he couldn't let go or he'd blow away. "Yeah. Me too." He wiped at his eyes with the back of his left hand. "I didn't wanna, like, mess with your head or burden you with my problems or anythin'. I..." He sniffled again. "I honestly thought I was gonna be alone when I died. That was how I wanted it. I didn't want someone to feel like they had to be here."

Balthazar couldn't have left him, even if he tried. "That's not how I feel, love. I want to be here." _Even if it kills me, too._ For a split second, he almost wished it would.

Lu didn't look away for him for a few long moments. "Thanks. For being here. For puttin' up with my shit. For..." He looked down at their intertwined fingers and tightened his grip on Balthazar's hand ever so slightly. "For everythin'."

Balthazar sucked in a deep breath, fighting the tears that threatened to spill down his own cheeks. He promised himself he wasn't going to cry, not in front of Lu himself, not over the death of someone he'd known for less than a week. "It's probably good we didn't get much time together. I'm not as sweet as you think," he half-joked. "I'm actually a bit of an arse."

"Yeah, well, I am, too. See my not tellin' my family about my impendin' demise."

Balthazar lifted Lu's hand to his lips again. "You had your reasons," he said quietly. "I'm just a dick. I don't know how my roommate puts up with me."

Lu had chuckled faintly at his acknowledgment of being a dick. Now, he said, "Roommate, huh? Tell me about him."

"His name's Cas. Short for Castiel. He works here too. A nurse. He actually got me my job here. But he's the really nice one. He's always taking extra hours or switching with people who don't want to work on Fridays and I've never heard him complain, not once. He's so sweet, it's almost obnoxious," he added with a quiet laugh.

When Lu grinned, Balthazar realized he'd settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

He went on before he could fully process _this is really the end_ and start crying. He did not want to weep right now. "Anyway, he's not working today. He's out with his boyfriend tonight, and I don't know how he managed to get Cas to go out, but he did. He doesn't do the whole nightclub scene. Neither does Dean, for that matter. That's Cas's boyfriend. Dean. But they needed to go out and have some fun anyway."

"What about you? Got any plans for the weekend?"

As if he could just go back to his regularly-scheduled life after this. As if this was just some extended commercial break and the latest episode of _The Balthazar Roch__é__ Show_ would just pick up where it left off before this interruption. How could he go back to normal after tonight, after Lu died? Trying to ignore the aching in his chest, he shook his head. "I usually do things spur-of-the-moment. I never have plans but I seldom end up staying at home." He had work in the morning. He'd be at work all day tomorrow. Then he had the graveyard shift on Sunday.

"Good. Don't spend too much time at home. You'll go crazy," Lu murmured, and Balthazar managed to crack a small smile.

After that, they both fell silent, and there was no sound save the beeping of the heart monitor.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep, and he nearly kicked himself. He wasn't used to bourbon and it must have made him drowsy, but he'd wanted to be awake for Lu, to keep watch. Nearly three hours had passed, though, and for a second, he thought he missed it.

Then he realized Dr. Fuller was in the room, hovering over the bed on Lu's other side. Behind him, the beeping of the EKG machine had slowed significantly, and Fuller had two fingers pressed to the inside of Lu's left wrist.

Lu was unconscious, and Balthazar knew right then that he'd never see those gorgeous blue eyes open again. He sucked in a steadying breath and willed away his tears.

Neither he nor Fuller said a word as Lu's heartbeat continued to slow, although the doctor did glance up at him to note that he, at least, was awake now.

It seemed to be both hours and seconds later that there came one, two, three impossibly slow beats of his heart, Balthazar thinking each time, _That's it, that has to be it_ before there came another beat, but it was only about ten minutes. At the last possible moment, he felt Lu's grip on his hand tighten, as if, even now, he was trying to reassure Balthazar that _It's okay, I'm alright now_ before the clenched fingers slackened and he let out a barely-audible breath, almost like a sigh that dragged on and the heart monitor flatlined.

Lu was dead.

Fuller released Lu's wrist, glanced at his own watch, and then wrote something down on his clipboard.

Balthazar didn't know how he expected to feel—maybe like his heart had been shredded or like he'd just get up and follow Lu to the other side because how could he possibly survive something that hurt this badly, this deeply? But he just felt numb and empty. Lu was gone, and Balthazar felt cold.

He slowly released Lu's hand, aware of Fuller's eyes suddenly on him, and stood up. He leaned over Lu, brushed a few sweaty strands of hair away from his face, and pressed his lips to the strawberry blond's for a moment before pulling back and starting to clear off the bedside table. He left the Taco Bell where it was, knowing someone else would clean it up, and left the book, too—that was Lu's, and his family would probably want it back. But when he stowed the bottle of bourbon in his backpack—pointedly ignoring the dirty look he got from Fuller—he saw something tucked underneath the book and pulled it out, more out of curiosity than anything else.

It was two envelopes: one addressed to Gabriel, and one addressed to him. He left the one for Gabriel under the book and stuck his in his backpack before swinging it over his shoulders and preparing to leave.

"Roché."

Balthazar turned around to face Fuller. "Yes?"

The doctor moved around the bed and in between the two chairs, stopping a few feet from him. "Don't do anything stupid. What just happened... that's a mistake you only make once."

He had no idea what Fuller was talking about. "Pardon?"

"Befriending a terminal patient. You start to think, _Maybe I can save them with the power of my love_ or something, and then they die anyway. You can't keep doing that—it'll eat you alive."

He was suddenly, sorely tempted to punch Doctor Z. Fuller, MD, in the face. He could have his own damned opinions—staying with Lu had _not_ been a mistake, no matter how much it would hurt later.

"Anyway, I already cleared it with the hospital. You haven't taken any sick days in a year, so we're basically ordering you to take a week off."

"My schedule—" he started, panic rising in him, but Fuller cut him off.

"Has been taken care of. If I see you back here before next Saturday, I'll fire you on the spot. Got that?"

"Yes."

"You're lucky I'm not going to say anything about the liquor. You're not supposed to have it in here."

"He wanted it. He wanted the Taco Bell, too. He was hungry."

"That's why we have a cafeteria."

"He wanted _Taco Bell_," Balthazar spat. Without waiting for a response, he turned and stormed out of room 728.

* * *

When he got home (after stopping at the liquor store to pick up three more fifths of Jim Beam Devil's Cut), he had to take three more long swigs of bourbon before he was able to open the letter Lu had left for him.

The handwriting was shaky, but still legible. _Balthazar, there's so much I wish I could have said to you. The last week I had here was somehow more meaningful than the six months I spent doing whatever I wanted, and the only difference I can really think of is because you were with me. Thanks for everything, and I'm sorry I never told my family about this. I didn't leave any next-of-kin information in my records, so can you give my brother Gabe a call? His number is at the bottom of the paper. I just didn't want them to find out before it was over. Thanks for loving me. It made the last week easier for me. And please don't doubt that I loved you, too. Until we see each other again, Lu._

A few tears slid down Balthazar's cheeks, but he brushed them away just long enough to dial the number at the bottom of the sheet.

"Hello?" a drowsy, sleep-drunk voice mumbled.

"Gabriel Milligan?" Balthazar asked.

"Yeah, that's me."

"I... I knew your brother Lu at the hospital. He wanted me to tell you that... he's dead."

"My brother has the flu, fucker. He's not dead."

"He lied," Balthazar said, ignoring the suddenly angry tone. "He had cancer. He died an hour ago. If you don't believe me, go and find out for yourself."

"Who the fuck is this?"

Balthazar simply hung up. Gabriel would find out soon enough.

He spent his whole week off holed up in his room, drinking bourbon.

* * *

**I solemnly swear that I will never inflict another story like this upon you again.**


End file.
